


Meet Me at The Cemetery

by quietly_desperate



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (Voldy doesn’t know yet hehe), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crying, Dark Mark (Harry Potter), Draco Malfoy is Not a Death Eater, Eventual Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Fluff and Angst, Good Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter is Bad at Feelings, Harry Potter is a Little Shit, M/M, Neck Kissing, Not Canon Compliant, Out of Character, Sassy Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:00:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27137674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quietly_desperate/pseuds/quietly_desperate
Summary: Sneaking around with The Chosen One isn’t easy. Draco wishes things could be different.As it turns out, Harry wants the same.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 118





	Meet Me at The Cemetery

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve finally joined the Harry Potter Fandom, and what better way to establish my newfound obsession than to write a Drarry fic! 
> 
> This is dedicated to Sophie, who got me into HP in the first place. I’m sorry for tagging you in so many of my shite edits. Thank you for being such a lovely friend and supporting me nonetheless. Ily homie
> 
> This is unedited (as per usual lmao). Excuse any errors. 
> 
> Enjoy x

The cemetery is their secret spot, too Muggle and unassuming for anybody to even entertain the idea that that's where two of the most powerful wizards go to hide. They arrive separately, only minutes apart, but long enough to keep anyone who dares to spy on their toes. Tonight, Harry arrives first, and he sits against a headstone and sucks down a cigarette whilst he waits for Malfoy to arrive.

It's cold, the hand-me-down jumper given to him from Dudley barely enough to protect him from the wind that nips at his skin. The material has worn thin from excessive use, and if the damp spot by his spine is any indication, Harry can only guess there's a small hole that's broken out on the back. He could fix it, cast a quick spell and save himself the risk of catching a cold, but where is the fun in that when Malfoy can be his heat source?

And right on time, as the wind picks up and rustles the leaves on the trees, Malfoy appears out of thin air. His loafers make a dull thud on the grass as he walks over. He's wearing a heavy trench coat and a smart pair of slacks that Harry is sure costs more than he can think of. It makes him cringe when he sees Malfoy step into a damp patch of grass. Harry is sure his shoes will be dirty, but they're as spotless as ever. Trust Malfoy to magic his fucking loafers.

"Can't go anywhere without seeing your face, can I, Potter?" Draco sneers, but there's no heat behind it.

They do this every time, to try and ward off unwanted guests, and usually Harry rises to the (nonexistent) bait, but he's not in the right mood tonight. His mind has been reeling ever since he got into an argument with Ron, and he's been a strop ever since. Well, Ron's been in a strop, Harry's just felt...depressed. He tries to hide it now; tries his hardest to curl his lip in (fake) disgust, but it feels wrong on his face and he drops it as quickly as he tried it. They're just going to have to deal with the possibility of someone watching them at a later date.

Draco notices Harry's lack of banter. He stops short of him, a few steps shy of Harry's outstretched legs, and frowns. It's the cute type of frown he does, all pouty and confused and stuck-up in an endearing sort of way. It causes a flicker of a smile to flash across Harry's face. That's enough for Draco, and he closes the distance between them and sits beside him agains the headstone.

"Mary Kelly, hm?" He says to break the ice, referring to the headstone of the lady of whom they're resting on.

Harry snorts. "Thought she'd keep her mouth shut about us. I mean, who names their kid 'Mary Kelly?'"

Draco nudges his side with a teasing smile. "Could say the same about 'Harry Potter.'"

"Or 'Draco Malfoy.'"

"True. But nothing will ever come close to 'Neville Longbottom.'"

Harry snorts, an ugly sound that sets them off into childish giggles. They cover their mouths and lean into each other for support. It's stupid. They're laughing at things that aren't even funny - they're laughing at their names, for the love of Merlin- but it breaks the tension and fills the air with a bubbly feeling that's much too addictive to try and stop. The cigarette that was in between Harry's fingers drops into the damp grass, essentially putting it out. He doesn't notice, too distracted by the way Draco's eyes crinkle in delight as he laughs. Something about this image makes his heart crack a little, which immediately halts his laughter.

Draco is quick to sober up, caught off guard by Harry's sudden mood change. He leans back a bit to get a better look at Potter, to do what Harry likes to call a 'Malfoy Scan.' Unfortunate name but rather to the point. Harry squirms under Draco's stare and tries to hide behind his arms. He even goes as far as to tuck his chin into his neck. This makes Draco chuckle in his loving sort of way.

"What's wrong?" He asks once he's done looking over Harry.

"Nothing." Harry cringes. He replied way too quickly. "I mean, why would anything be wrong? I'm fine."

"And I'm Muggle-born," Draco retorts. He leans back into Harry's space so they're pressed together, hips-to-ankles. He even dares to sling his right leg gently over Harry's left leg. He lets him rest his leg there. "Now, tell me what's happened. You forget that I can read you like an open book, Potter."

Draco knows he's fucked up as soon as he says it. Potter is not how he refers to Harry - not when they're like this, tightly knitted together in their own bubble. Potter is what he calls him when he's bullying him, when he's teasing and taunting him to get a rise of him. They agreed that the only time Draco is to refer to Harry as Potter is when they first 'find' each other here at the cemetery. After that, it's only Harry and Draco for the rest of their time together.

So it's no surprise when that sends Harry over the edge. Tears build in his eyes, and he shakes his head in defeat. The sight makes Draco's heart break. This wasn't how this was supposed to go. He wishes he could take the past thirty seconds back and start over.

"I'm sorry," he says, and desperately tries to grab at Harry, who's shuffling backwards to get as far away from Draco as he can. "Please, Harry, it's habit, I'm sorry."

"It's not you," Harry says between sobs. He's gasping for breath now and Draco so desperately wants to hold him, but he understands he needs space. He lets Harry have his space because it's the least he can do.

"I am sorry. Please tell me what else is making you upset."

Harry shakes his head wildly. Tears slip past the frames of his glasses and slide down his cheek. They drip onto his jumper and stain it a darker colour. Draco feels his heart crumbling in his chest. His hands itch to reach out and comfort the crying boy - _man_ \- in front of him.

"It's too much," Harry says suddenly. "It's too much. Please hold me. Please make it stop."

He sounds so desperate, so broken and so unlike the brave man Draco is used to, and it makes him completely break. He dives for Harry and pulls him in close, not caring if his coat or shirt or anything becomes soaked. He needs to let Harry know that he is safe and protected in Draco's arms. Clothes can be replaced. Harry Potter is irreplaceable.

Before they can get too comfortable, Draco shifts to unbutton his coat all the way so he can wrap it around Harry's shaking body. The shivers calm down just the slightest, now that the wind isn't nipping at him, but his body is still being wracked by sobs and harsh shaking. Draco shushes him to the best of his ability, running a hand up and down his back and gently carding through his hair like he knows Harry likes. It has its desired affect - Harry nuzzles his face into Draco's neck and wraps his arms tightly around him, so tight that anyone weaker would surely suffer.

They stay like that for a while, just rocking back and forth in each other's silent company. Draco whispers calming things into Harry's ear, feels chills unrelated to crying fly down his spine, and smiles against his head. Harry will be okay. He will be okay. They will both very much be okay.

"I've had a long day," Harry says into Draco's neck. He remains silent to let Harry talk. "Ron and I got into an argument...over you. I forgot to hand in an essay. The first years won't stop following me around and treating me like I'm some deity. I'm so tired of being the Chosen One. I'm so tired of hiding and pretending."

Draco freezes - not because he's angry or scared, but because he's surprised. Harry has never expressed his desire to come out before. They agreed when this first started that they would cross that bridge when they (see: Harry) were ready. Harry hadn't bought it up again, and neither had Draco - not because he was against the idea, but because he was scared. Harry Potter was everyone's Golden Boy. Draco Malfoy was an ex Death Eater (still unknown to the Dark Lord, but what he didn't know wouldn't kill him). Everyone expected Harry to date Granger, or some big name Witch who would fawn and adore him. Nobody was expecting their Chosen One to be gay, let alone into a _Malfoy_.

The rest Draco understands. Not fully, but he can sympathise with Harry. Being the poster child for the Wizarding World was no small feat. His fate had be chosen for him the second Voldemort killed his parents but failed to leave nothing but a scar on him. He became a household name before he could even speak properly. Parents told their children stories of Harry Potter: The Boy Who Lived at bedtime. Even Draco's own mother had told him stories of Harry when he was a child. Everyone grew up and grew old with the hope that Harry would save them all.

It only seemed to get worse when he came to Hogwarts. People followed Harry around like lost puppies. That's half the reason why they set up a system for whenever they meet up. You never know who's around the corner. People were obsessed with Harry - or, more specifically, the idea of Harry Potter. Malfoy had fallen into that trap at one point, and eleven-year-old Draco had been humiliated when Harry didn't take his hand and become his friend. He'd never understand the full extent of the day-to-day pressures Harry faced, but he saw how it weighed on him; like now.

Yet now, as he thinks about it, it makes sense that Harry remaining in the closet would become a (bigger) issue. Draco had wanted to protect him, keep him safe, but maybe what Harry needs is to break the mould he has been forced into. The Boy Who Lived may have been the Chosen One, but he is also human. He has needs and desires like anyone else. And nobody should ever deny him that, least of all Draco himself.

So he nods, because he can't seem to get the words out that, _yes, he wants this, too_. He so badly wants to be able to hold Harry's hand as they walk into the Great Hall. Draco wants to snog him in front of the first years and hear them all gag in disgust. He wants to leave become his best friend and his partner. He wouldn't even mind making friends with Granger and Weasley. Anything to see Harry smiling.

"Really?" Harry says. There's a newfound hope in his voice and it brings joy to Draco's cold heart. "You'd be willing to come out. For me?"

"Not just for you," Malfoy corrects. "For us. It'll take time and communication and _oh how everyone will be absolutely appalled,_ but it's all worth it."

Harry kisses him, hard and fast. It catches Draco off guard. He nearly falls backwards from the pure force of it. There's too much teeth and biting and - oh, there's some tongue - but it's their first kiss and it's amazing. Draco grips desperately onto Harry's waist and tries to bring them as close together as physically possible. The action makes Harry groan, and isn't that the most beautiful sound in the whole entire world?

Draco slowly makes his way down Harry's face and onto his neck, but nothing without first pulling at his bottom lip with his teeth. Harry is keening and whimpering, and it's all too much but not enough. Draco pours out his desperation as his sucks hickeys onto Harry's neck, listening out for what Harry likes best. He lets out the most guttural moan when Draco gently sucks on the junction between his neck and jaw, which in turn makes Draco moan.

He knows this has gone from a zero-to-one hundred situation much too fast. Harry was crying not five minutes ago, but now he's crying out Draco's name in desperation, and Draco can't find himself to care. However, he does pull away, just for a second, to make sure Harry is okay.

" _Draco_!" Harry moans, and Draco thinks that he'll never get used to that sound.

"Harry, wait," he says, and gently pries Harry away when he tries to kiss his neck. "Stop. Are you sure this is okay?"

" _Please_ ," is all Harry says.

"I need a yes or no response, babe."

"Yes, Draco, please!"

And with that, Draco goes back to attacking Harry's sweet spot.

They're rocking their hips, the friction too weak to make much of a difference, but it's a delicious fire that makes Draco want more more more. He pulls at Harry's hair and lifts his head to reconnect their lips. Harry whimpers and whines and tugs at whatever clothing of Draco's he can get his hands on.

"Please!" He cries.

Draco pulls away, much to the distaste of Harry, and smirks. "Please what?"

"Hnnng, _Draco_ -"

"Ah, ah; words, Harry."

"More," Harry replies, quiet as a mouse. "Please."

Draco moves to go back to kissing Harry's neck, but he stops right before his lips touch skin. He remembers they're outside, and as much as he's having fun just lavishing Harry, he doesn't want to continue any further until they're inside. Nothing more than kissing and making out is going to happen tonight - they don't need to speak verbally to agree on that - but who wants to say their first proper make out session with their first proper boyfriend was in a cemetery? Certainly not Draco.

"What now?" Harry says. He sound a lot less...turned on; his voice is steadier, his eyes clearer, and Draco realises he must sense his hesitation.

"We should head back," Draco says gently. He quickly adds, "So we're more comfortable. And inside," before Harry can protest.

"There's something I want to do first, if you'll let me?"

"Of course."

"Take off your coat and give me your left arm."

Draco feels himself shake. He knows what's coming, and he could stop it. He could refuse, say no, put a stop it this before it can get out of hand. But he trusts Harry, as Harry had entrusted him, and Draco lets Harry take hold of his left arm after he rolls up his shirt sleeve.

His Dark Mark is the ugliest thing Draco has ever seen. He recoils as he looks at it, tries not to throw up there and then. He doesn't know how Harry can keep looking at it, especially with the meaning behind it. Suppose that's the Gryffindor in him. The bravery. The courage.

"May I?" He asks. Draco isn't sure what he's asking permission for but he nods anyway.

Harry's lips are on it immediately. Draco gasps, not expecting that, and watches with wonder in his eyes as Harry sucks and kisses at the mark. He pours love and soul and acceptance into it. There's no hesitation, no disgust, just pure love. He kisses the area around the Mark, then gently bites at it. Draco closes his eyes and tilts his head back, trying desperately to control his breathing.

" _Harry_." His voice is full of awe. He can't hold back.

Harry looks up at him through his eyelashes, keeps his lips on the Dark Mark as he says, "This okay?"

"More, please," Draco begs.

How the tables have turned, and how Draco loves it. He's whimpering and calling out Harry's name with a desperation for something he can't place. Harry just keeps going, sucking and biting and kissing and marking. Despite the dark colour, despite the nighttime darkness that envelops them, Draco can clearly see the bruises and love bites forming on and around the Mark. He can't help but to let out another gasp.

"We have a lot to talk about," Harry says, lips still on Draco's skin. "What happened with Ron, what's happening with us...this; I'm sure you'll want to talk about this. But right now, I just want to be with you. Is that okay?"

"More than okay." Draco runs a hand through Harry's hair, sighs contentedly when Harry nuzzles his hand.

"Let's go back?"

"As long as you sneak me into your bed."

•••

"I was crying because I felt like we were on different pages. Ron and I argued over what was happening between us. He accused you of using me, that our sneaking around was the only way you would ever see me. I tried to say otherwise, but Ron's stubborn. So am I, I guess. He told me to get my shit together or stop talking about it, which was fair, but it still hurt. I haven't told Hermione yet, so I couldn't even confide in her. And I don't trust anyone else."

"Shall we snog at breakfast tomorrow to break it to her?"

"Draco!"

"Ow! You didn't have to slap me. Git. Go on, finish your story so I can tell mine."

"Always only thinking about yourself. Anyway, I left, and ran into some first years who seemed intent on asking me a million questions. It felt like a very personal interview with someone from the Daily Prophet. I tried to bypass them but they kept following me. I eventually snapped at them, told them to get lost. I think I scared them."

"Wouldn't be the first time..."

"Would you let me speak?"

"If it means you stop slapping me. Salazar's tits."

"When you called me Potter, it completely ruined me. I thought for sure that Ron was right, that I had been tricked and was just setting myself up for heartbreak. But then you reached out for me and....all this happened, and I knew that we were okay."

"That's all? Rather dramatic if you ask me - ow! Okay, I'm sorry! Jesus Christ."

"You really are sorry; you just cursed out a Muggle God."

"Can you blame me?"

"No. I'm sorry. Please, the floor's all yours."

"I thought I was sleeping in the bed."

"For fuck's sake, Draco -"

"Right, so, I really fucking like you. That's about it."

"....Really? That's all you have to say?"

"What we're yo expecting, Harry? A full love confession? A proposal? Take me to dinner first, geez."

"You've already given me a hickey."

"So have you! On my...mark, no less."

"Nobody's going to see that. Mine are on my neck. I'll have to wear a scarf tomorrow, I hope you know that."

"Wear my scarf? And my tie, if you want."

"Wearing each other's clothes already, Draco. Take me to dinner first, geez."

"Har har."

"I know, I'm hilarious. Everyone will know something’s up if I wear your tie tomorrow.”

“And?”

“I’m just making sure. Better your tie than your scarf. It’s bloody hot nowadays.”

“It’s because I’m around.”

“Cocky bastard.”

“You love it.”

“Unfortunately.”

"Okay, but seriously, what would you like to know?”

"We don't have to talk about it tonight. We've already talked about so much. It's late."

"Thank Merlin, I am in no mood to get all mushy - wait! What I mean to say, is that I'm thankful for the pass for tonight and I promise to answer any questions you may have tomorrow."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. Are you sure you're okay now?"

"I'd be better if you gave me a kiss."

"Cheeky. Seriously, Harry; are you okay?"

"I'm much better now, I promise. Just nerves about tomorrow, you know?"

"I understand. We'll do it, together."

"Good. Now kiss me, dammit."

"As his majesty pleases."

•••

The library is their 'secret' spot now, nice and open and totally assuming so everybody is forced to entertain that that's where two of the most powerful wizards go to hide. They arrive together, practically joined at the hip, but farenough away as to keep anyone who dares to tell them off for indecent behaviour on their toes. Tonight, Harry and Draco first, they sit in the corner of the library as they wait for Granger - er, Hermione, Ron, Pansy and Blaise to join them.

Harry did wear Draco’s tie the next morning. Nobody noticed at first - they walked into the Great Hall separately. Harry sat with Hermione and Ron, Draco with his friends, and tried their hardest not to look at each other and smirk. Hermione, ever the observer, was the first to spot the different coloured tie around Harry’s neck. She screeched, and slapped Ron’s arm, then screeched some more when she pulled Harry’s (deliberately upturned) collar and noticed the hickeys on his neck.

Draco took the opportunity to snog Harry whilst Hermione was still flustered. The reaction was priceless, although Harry was rather displeased when he received _the talk_ from her later that night. He was seventeen, for Merlin’s sake, and they were not having sex.

But now they all sit in the library, Pansy and Blaise included, and study together. It’s not only beneficial to their grades, but to their house points as well; they all received fifty point each for house unity. Harry loves these moments, watching the six of them - six complete individuals whom he never thought would ever get along in a million years - argue and laugh and banter together. Draco loves seeing Harry smile at these moments. He loves the fling in his eyes and the way he becomes soft yet strong, giving yet assertive. It 8: rather sexy.

They’re happy, and that’s all that matters.


End file.
